


And He's Okay

by sabinelagrande



Category: MythBusters
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Community: kink_bingo, Lumberjack Kink, M/M, Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-03
Updated: 2010-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is, far and away, the silliest fantasy that Adam has ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And He's Okay

Jamie isn't really Adam's type, insofar as Adam has a type, and Adam's really not attracted to him. Maybe it's because they've done too many ridiculous things together; he's seen Jamie strutting around in skin-tight latex more times than he cares to recollect, and it does negative things to his libido every time. He doesn't even really see Jamie as a sexual being, much less a potential sexual partner.

Adam's non-interest in Jamie persists for a good long while, up until they're already half-way through filming the first season of the show. They're building a cannon out of a log for science, and Jamie's taking care of cutting the thing down and boring it out. Adam comes in to check on the progress, and there's Jamie, standing next to this massive piece of wood, axe in hand, just chopping away. He's stripped down to the waist and sweating, his muscles limned by the fluorescent lighting of the shop, every one of them moving perfectly together as he swings and swings.

He looks like some kind of lumberjack sex god.

Jamie notices him, after a minute or so; he swings his axe down hard, so that it's sticking straight up out of the log. "You need something?" he asks; his voice is low and hoarse, and it does things to Adam.

He stammers something stupid and gets the fuck out of there.

From then on, Adam can't stop thinking about it, about Jamie the sexy lumberjack. It is, far and away, the silliest fantasy that Adam has ever had, but it doesn't stop him from getting a little turned on every time he walks by something pine-scented. It's also among the most complicated fantasies Adam has ever had. Adam doesn't even know how he'd meet a lumberjack; Adam doesn't know anything about lumberjacks at all. Are they like truckers? Do they hang out at rest stops? Do they even like to be called lumberjacks anymore?

Let's say, for sake of argument, that there exists a sexy, beret-wearing lumberjack called Jamie. Let us further postulate that said lumberjack hangs out at the Tim Horton's while he's not lumberjacking- Adam doesn't remember if he's ever actually been to a Tim Horton's, but he can more or less imagine what it's like- it's not really the point of the story, anyway.

Having those variables out of the way, then Adam can take the rest of the fantasy from there. Adam would be the lonely tourist, obviously, making his way through the wilds of Canada all on his own, looking for birds or interesting trees or something. The waitress would show him to a slightly sticky formica table, where Adam would peruse the menu with American glee- oohing at the Timbits, et cetera.

While he was sitting there, Jamie would come over, sliding onto the bench across from him. He'd be fresh off his latest lumberjacking gig, smelling of fir trees and sweat, dressed in tight jeans and big steel-toed boots, his flannel shirt slightly unbuttoned and rolled up over his bulging arms.

"Buy you a cup of coffee?" lumberjack Jamie would say, in his hot, scratchy, chopping wood voice.

Tourist Adam would be taken aback at Jamie's forwardness. "Sure," he'd stammer, clutching at his menu like it could protect his virtue.

"Not from around here, are you?" Jamie would ask, eying Adam quite lasciviously.

Adam would have to swallow down his fear and incipient arousal to even answer. "Visiting," he'd say.

They'd make small talk like that as Adam drank his coffee and ate his Timbits, the tension growing between them, Jamie baldly leering all the while. Adam would finish, finally, gulping down the rest of his coffee and pushing his plate away.

"Going to the back," Jamie would say, tilting his head towards the bathrooms, and Adam would know exactly what Jamie meant by that.

"Oh- okay," Adam would reply, with a gulp.

With one last look, Jamie would get up and walk away; Adam wouldn't be above checking out the bulge in his pants as he went. As soon as Jamie was gone, Adam would toss some money on the table and take off after him, ignoring the knowing looks the other patrons gave him.

Once he made it to the bathroom- maybe the women's bathroom, it would be cleaner and less busy in there- so turned on he'd be tripping over his own feet as he went, he'd open the door and Jamie would be waiting for him. With trembling fingers, Adam would lock the door behind them, and it would all be over but the shouting.

Jamie would throw him over the sink, manhandling him with ease, big muscles working. He'd shuck down Adam's pants and boxers, and then he'd fuck the living bejesus out of him, nothing but spit and brute force, his strong hands clamped around Adam's hips. And he'd be growling and grunting and pushing and shoving, and Adam would be cursing and shouting and loving every second of it.

It is fast becoming one of Adam's favorite fantasies.

Now, what's it gonna take to get Jamie into a flannel shirt?


End file.
